The dances were the customary reels, and, of course, the Red
River Jig. I was sorry, however, to notice a so-called improvement
upon this historic dance; that is to say, they doubled the numbers
engaged in it, and called it "The Wahpoo?›kow Jig." It seemed a
dangerous innovation; and the introduction later on of a cotillon
with the usual dreary and mechanical calls filled one with
additional forebodings. We almost heard "the first low wash of waves
where soon shall flow a human sea." But aside from such newfangled
features, there was nothing to criticise. The fiddling was good,
and the dancing was good, showing the usual expertness, in which
performance the women stooped their shoulders gracefully, and bent
their brows modestly upon the floor, whilst the men vied with each
other in the admirable and complicated variety of their steps. In
fact, it was an evening very agreeably spent, and not the less so
from its primitive environment. After joining in a reel of eight, we
left the scene with reluctance, the memorable Jig suddenly striking
on our ears as we wended our way in the darkness to our camp.
As regards farming land in the region, for a long way inland Mr.
Weaver and others described it as of the like good quality as at
the Mission, but with much muskeg. It is difficult to estimate the
extent of the latter, for, being more noticeable than good land,
the tendency is to overestimate.
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